A ruling passion : a novel (52 page)

"Nothing, if we were alone. I'm tired of fighting the crowds for a litde time with you, Carl. I think we need a vacation from the farm and everyone on it."

"We can't leave; we can't tell everyone—"

"I know; we're stuck for now. But I want to go somewhere after the first of the year. Just the two of us."

He thought about it. "I might be able to do it then; if not right after the first, at least by the middle of January."

"No," she said firmly. "That's not good enough. I don't want to wait. We need this, Carl, and you know it."

He shrugged. He couldn't leave. He had to keep an eye on Sybille; he had to know what was happening. "We could go to New York, if you want. I could check with the office once in a while, and the rest of the time we'll do dinner and the theater with the Stevensons and the Gramsons and the—"

"Carl, I said alone. We'll never get anywhere if you keep making parties wherever you go. Either we have a marriage worth talking about or we don't. And I'm not going to wait to find out."

Those were the words he had dreaded most. "For God's sake, of course we have a marriage. What is it you want, Val? I'll do anything you want; just don't threaten me."

Her eyebrows rose. "I wasn't threatening; I was saying I can't wait months to talk. I told you what I want: to go somewhere quiet where

we don't have a mob at every meal, and get reacquainted, and make love, and ignore the rest of the world. I don't think that's a lot to ask; you can call it a New Year's present."

Carlton put his arms around her so she could not see his face. "It sounds wonderfiil. Where would you like to go?"

"To the mountains. Wouldn't you like that.>"

"Yes," he replied after the tiniest hesitation. "Especially if it makes you happy. We'll leave right after the first of the year." His arms tightened around her. "A week in the Adirondacks, away from the rest of the world."

Chapter 18

f M M he house was on its own small lake a few miles

^^^^ from Lake Placid, its back against the pine forest,

^1 ^ its broad front porch facing a narrow stretch of

W ^W beach. Built of huge logs, with a high, pitched roof

and wide stone fireplace, the house had three bedrooms, and Carlton managed to fill two of them with the group he put together for the trip.

"Alex and Betsy Tarrant; they asked to come along and I couldn't turn them down," he told Valerie as they were leaving for the airport. "They won't get in our way, and you've always liked them."

Valerie had never liked Betsy, but she let it pass. "This was going to be just the two of us," she said quiedy,

"I know, Val, and I'm sorry. It just happened. We won't pay attention to them. They can go off by themselves."

Valerie did not respond. On the flight to Lake Placid she told Alex to sit up front with Carlton, and she sat behind them with Betsy, letting her talk about herself. She should have known this would happen. Carlton never took quiet trips if he could help it; he always sur-

rounded himself with a group, even for a weekend in Washington or New York. There was no reason to think he had invited the Tarrants because he was nervous, though he seemed more distracted and jumpy than she could ever remember; this was just his way. And after all, she told herself, this was a pretty small group for Carlton. They'd still have plenty of time to talk.

They landed at the Lake Placid airport, and drove to the house in the Wagoneer they kept garaged there. Valerie discussed meals with the housekeeper, who lived in Lake Placid; Carlton and the maintenance man walked through the house, talking about a small leak in the roof and a broken pipe that had been repaired the week before. The Tarrants took the large back bedroom upstairs; Valerie and Carlton unpacked in the master bedroom on the main floor. And Carlton disappeared into his office, a small room off" their bedroom.

That day and the next, he worked there, with the door closed. He urged Valerie and the others to go snowshoeing or skiing, or to take the snowmobiles for rides around the lake. "I'll join you as soon as I can," he said on Friday morning. He was sitting at his desk, his head resting on his hand. "I'm sorry, Val; as soon as I can we'll go off" to our own corner. Maybe later this afternoon."

"You'll be there alone," she said coldly. "I'm taking the Tarrants into town for the day and we won't be back until dinnertime. You make it awftilly hard to patch up a marriage, Carl; if you—"

"Patch? We don't need patching; we're doing fine. I've been busy, I haven't paid much attention to you, I know that; but that doesn't mean anything; Christ, Valerie, do you have to build up a case every time I've got a lot on my mind? If every couple who doesn't spend a lot of time together—"

"Oh, stop it," she said impatiendy. He shrugged, still leaning his head on his hand, and in a moment Valerie bent down and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry; I'm as nervous as you these days. If you'd tell me what's bothering you, I might be able to help, or at least we could share it. Unless it's this woman you've got; I don't imagine I'd be much help there."

'Woman? What woman? What are you talking about?"

'Tour regular trips to Manhattan. Carl, do you think everyone in the world is blind but you?" She picked up her shearling coat and went to the door. "I'll be in town until about six. If you're willing to talk after dinner, we might make a start at being married."

"We are married, for Christ's sake. I can't talk to you if you're ob-

sessed with these crazy ideas. There isn't any other woman!"

"Good," said Valerie lightly. "Then thafs one less thing we have to discuss, isn't it? Fll see you tonight."

He heard her close the door, but he did not move; he was exhausted, even though it was only the morning. He wondered how he had slipped up and made her suspicious. He wondered why she felt they weren't married. He was home most nights, they went to parties together, they took quick flights to New York and Washington, they entertained, they rode together on their farm. What more did she need to feel married?

He shook his head, and turned to the papers on his desk. It was all done. For three months, handling a few transactions at a time, he had mortgaged their properties, borrowed on their horses, their collection of antique furnishings and their twentieth-century art, and converted the remaining stocks and bonds in the three portfolios to cash. Then he had bought thirteen million dollars in bearer bonds from his broker—bonds that were completely negotiable and safely unregistered—and sent the bonds to a bank in Panama. The bank had cashed the bonds and opened an account held by a company which Monte James had set up, with a local president. From there, the money would be transfered to another account in the name of a development company in which Carlton Sterling was the major shareholder. That whole trail was invisible, since the bearer bonds were unregistered, and therefore, once he bought them, untraceable.

Eventually—Carlton had never asked Sybille for all the details of the trail it would take from there—the thirteen million dollars would be used to purchase thirteen hundred contiguous acres of land near Cul-peper, Virginia. And then the land would be resold to the Hour of Grace Foundation for thirty million dollars.

Massive fraud. The phrase had sprung at him the moment he sent the bearer bonds out of the country. Since then it had growled through his thoughts day and night, never leaving him alone. And there was something else. Sybille. Besides committing himself to fraud, he was committing himself to Sybille. Tying himself to her, irrevocably and forever.

Thoughts like that never occurred to him when he was with her. But as he and Valerie and the others took off for Lake Placid, he had been startled to feel a lighmess and a sense of freedom, and the higher he climbed, the more certainly he had known that the freedom was from Sybille.

With a grunt of exasperation, he shoved back his desk chair and

went outside, pulling on a down jacket. The sun and the sparkling snow were blinding, and he put on dark glasses as he began to walk along the lakeshore. He took deep breaths of the biting air, walking faster until he was almost trotting, leaving deep footprints in the snow. And by the time he came back to the house, breathing heavily, sweating, he knew he could not do it.

What it came down to, he finally admitted, was that he knew damn little of Sybille's machinations, with Graceville or anything else. He wasn't even sure he knew very much about Sybille. What he did know was that he wanted out.

Back in his office, he called her, and told her he had changed his mind. "You haven't bought the land," he said when she remained silent. "The money is still in the development company's account. Fll arrange to withdraw it next Thursday, when we get back." She still was silent. "Fm sorry, Sybille; I know you wanted to help me, and that means a lot to me, it's not that I'm not grateful; I just... changed my mind."

"And what about you?" she asked at last.

"I don't know. I don't know what I'm going to do. I'll just have to figure something else out. I have to talk to Val. I should have known I couldn't keep it from her; it's her money, too."

"Carl, you know you can't—"

"Damn it, I don't want to talk about it! Sorry; I didn't mean to yell. You'll just have to go along this time, Sybille; I'm doing what I have to do, and I've made up my mind. I know you'll understand; you've always understood me, and been there when I needed you. I want to see you next week—okay?—as soon as I get back."

There was a silence. "Of course," she said softly. "You know I want that, too, Carl."

But Sybille had no intention of waiting. That night she called Valerie and invited herself to the Adirondacks. "Just for overnight," she said. "I've been so busy and stressed out I just have to get away and breathe some different air. Your housekeeper told me you'd gone to the mountains and it sounded like just what I need. Would you mind? Or don't you have room for me?"

"There's an empty bedroom, and of course you can come," said Valerie, thinking it made no difference how many guests filled the house; she and Carl could talk anywhere, if that was what they both wanted. "We haven't seen much of you lately; we'd be glad to have you. You should be able to get a flight first thing in the morning."

"I have the Foundation jet; don't worry about me. This is so good

of you, Valerie. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

The Hour of Grace Citation, bringing both Sybille and Lily, landed in Lake Placid on Saturday morning. Half an hour later the two of them had taken possession of the last empty bedroom, with its twin beds and private bath, and had joined everyone for lunch at the round dining table near the fireplace. Sybille praised the house, admiring its views, the size of the rooms, the comfort of the furnishings. "I've never been in the Adirondacks before," she told Valerie and the others at the table. "It's a treat to be here. And thank you for letting me bring Lily. She needs a rest even more than I do; I couldn't leave her behind."

"We're glad you're here," Valerie said to Lily, and began to ask questions about her television program and the new church, still unfinished, though she had been preaching in it for five months. Carlton, stunned by Sybille's presence, torn by his desire for her which reared up with monstrous force as soon as he saw her, pushed his spoon through the chili in his soup bowl, and took huge bites of cornbread. He had to stay away from her; not only because of Val, though that was bad enough—what possessed her to come up here when they'd been so careful for over a year?—but because all his logical thinking of the past few days could collapse if he got close to her. Stay away, he told himself, taut and quivering with wanting her. Stay in the office; go there now. The housekeeper was serving coffee. Go there now; don't wait for dessert; no one will care. Go now!

"Carl," Sybille said, "May I ask your advice about a business deal I'm trying to work out?"

"Not now," he said wildly. "I've got a lot to do. Later, maybe, tomorrow or the next day..."

"Please," she said. "I'm leaving tomorrow and I do need your advice." She put out her hands, pleading. "There aren't many people I can really trust, Carl. Won't you give me just a litde of your time? I brought something to show you."

Carlton's look sharpened. The money, he thought. She'd withdrawn the money herself; she didn't want him to wait, or worry. Damn it, he'd underrated her. "I'll be glad to help," he said and led the way to the bedroom, and through it to his office.

He closed the door. "Carl," Sybille murmured, and she was in his arms, her tongue twisting around his, her arms clasping him to her. Carlton's hands were on her breasts, between her legs, pulling her against him; he wanted to crush her, to throw her to the floor, to enter her and devour her. But she was the one who led the way: she slid

down his body until she was kneeling in front of him. Her quick, clever hands opened his pants and took him inside the clinging, powerful grip of her mouth, and Carlton, moaning silendy at the back of his throat, found the explosive release that sent him plummeting from the taut craze of the lunch table.

Breathing heavily, he pulled away and leaned against the wall, his worry returning as his passion ebbed. "You brought the money?"

"Oh, Carl," said Sybille moumftilly "How can you talk about money? I missed you; I had to be with you. And I thought we might talk a little bit, about the future."

The next afternoon, Sunday, Sybille returned to Washington. Lily stayed behind. "If you have any questions about Graceville, ask her," Sybille told Carlton as he drove her to the Lake Placid airport. "You only began to worry because you had no one to talk to."

"Is that why she's staying with us?" he asked harshly. "To keep me in line?"

Sybille sighed deeply. "She's exhausted, and Valerie very kindly offered to let her stay on and fly back with you." Her voice trembled, 'Tou make me sound very devious, Carl."

"Calculating," he said flady. "Always prepared. The perfect Girl Scout."

Alarmed, she gazed at him for a long moment. Her eyes were hooded. "I'll return your money," she said icily. "I don't want to have anything to do with someone who thinks I'm calculating. All I wanted was to make thirteen million dollars for you, clean up your mess, give you my heart and soul for the rest of my life and do my best to be everything you've ever wanted. I'm sorry that's not good enough for you." She stared straight ahead. "As soon as you get back to Washington, you can have your money We don't have to see each other; my assistant will give it to you. We won't see each other at all; there's no reason to."